Lost Kitten
by diellemabelle
Summary: AU. Lightning is a cop with a chip on her shoulder the size of Cocoon. One night, she encounters someone who reminds her that she wasn't always on the straight and narrow path. There was someone she failed to protect and this might be her chance to redeem herself. "You've got my eyes/ You'll never be mine, ah, but you've got my eyes." Based on the song by Metric. One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Based on my interpretation of the song "Lost Kitten" by Metric. I have included the lyrics in a second chapter in case you've never heard the song and you're curious. You don't need to know the song to read the story.

**AU Notes:** In this universe, Lightning doesn't have a sister. Also, she is older, probably around 34. The events of Final Fantasy 13 and 13-2 never occurred. The name Yaag Rosch is used, but the character is different. The Guardian Corps are the police force.

**Vocabulary:** john - a prostitute's customer.

**Lost Kitten**

* * *

_AU fanfic - Lightning's POV_

_"Tell me one thing you would never do/ I was looking for a hooker when I found you"_

* * *

It was a normal Saturday night. I was on patrol on the bad side of town, looking for hookers and hoodlums - anything illegal that I could crack down on. The sky was clear and bright with stars, the weather mild enough that all types were outside walking around. My Guardian Corps uniform got me a few nervous glances, but that was to be expected. Years of experience told me that it was the ones that _didn't_ shy away that were up to no good.

I took to the side streets, hoping to make a bust. It had been a dry week and my trigger finger was itchy. My intuition was right on the money. Under the light of a street lamp, halfway down the block, stood a pink-haired woman wearing little enough that I wondered why she bothered wearing anything at all. Her breasts were hiked up by a sexy little number that was part bra, part teddy and all lace. The skirt matched, in the sense that it was just as trampy and just as black.

I kept to the shadows, though I doubted she would have noticed or cared if I followed her outright. Her walk told me that she was desperate, the way she swung her hips was too exaggerated, especially when there were no cars driving by. Still, I crept along silently, staying in her blind spot that included, but wasn't limited to, everything behind her. Minutes ticked by as I stalked my prey. Reaching the end of the street, she turned around. Apparently this was her block tonight.

As I moved to conceal myself behind a hedge, her face came into view. She was younger than I'd estimated, probably no more than a teenager. The overhead lighting wasn't kind on her features. Layers of dark make-up covered her face like a mask, but there was something about her that stopped me mid-crouch. _Those eyes_, I marveled. My breath hitched and I covered my mouth so as not to give away my position. _My eyes._

I knew _she_'d been in and out of foster care and had a couple of brushes with the law. I heard it somewhere but I pretended not to. I didn't want to dwell on my mistakes. But, there was something about her I held on to, all these years.

* * *

I was a wild one, back then. The endless partying at upscale clubs, the drinking, the after-parties and midnight shows were my bread and butter. At first it was a thrill when I was singled out, allowed to bypass the line, free of cover charge. But after two years of VIP-ing my way through life, I got reckless. It didn't help that my natural hair color was so unnatural, or that I was 5'7" and slender like a model. I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Cocoon, and I wouldn't let anyone get the best of me. Until someone did. But, in a way, that was my fault too.

My downwards spiral started the year my parents died. I was only fifteen, and when I heard the news, I thought my world was coming to an end. I had some friends, though I wouldn't call them that now, who tried to help me through those difficult times. They snuck me into a club, thinking it would cheer me up. I'll always remember its name, "The Crystal Palace", because it made me think of magic and fairy tales. At the time I'd thought it was fitting to lose myself in such a place. I intended to forget everything.

I did.

In fact, I hardly remember anything about that night after we'd hit the bar. The girls I was with kept feeding me shots that tasted like candy. My best game is truth or dare, because I never back down. However, they used that against me, making a dare out of everything. First the shots, then the pole dancing… I don't know how many guys I kissed that night, but I'll never remember any of them. Technically I was undefeated, but I'd lost a long time ago.

My "friends" loved it. They thought I was a riot, and they weren't the only ones. As they brought me to the clubs more and more, my reputation grew. People I didn't think I knew started inviting me out. I didn't have to pay to get in anywhere. Drinks were always free. The weekends passed by in a blur of alcohol and loud music. The parties got wilder and stretched well into the morning hours. Then the weekends began to include Thursdays and Mondays. Before long, every day was the weekend.

I used my parent's life insurance money to support the habits I picked up along the way. Drugs were a larger part of my diet than actual food. I had about ten backless dresses but not a single pair of jeans. I had my own little apartment, but I was never alone. People would crash at my place for weeks, usually baked out of their minds.

And then **he** appeared.

I'd probably met him a few times before. We followed the same party circuit, liked the same bands. I must have seen him somewhere, but I was usually too drunk or high to remember anything or anyone. I'd say I was blissfully unaware, but that wouldn't account for the bouts of depression and anxiety or the pounding headaches that let me know it was time for another hit. In any case, he knew all about me the first time I remember talking to him.

He told me I could be anything: a model, an actress, it was all within reach. He was a big-shot talent agent and, naïve as I was, I believed his every word.

Eden's lights were brighter than I could have imagined and, to my innocent eyes, it was like the fairy tale that I'd been chasing finally found me. I lived on the catwalk, in the fast lane, in a coked-out daze in those flashing lights.

Then _she_ came and **he** left and my life came screeching to a halt. I was seventeen and pregnant when I found myself all alone a big city that had chewed me up and was in the process of regurgitation. The moment I peed on that stick in a gas station bathroom, I knew something had to change. Good thing for her, I never back down from a challenge.

I pulled myself together. For her, I stopped drinking and gave up the drugs. It took some time and I can't say I didn't resent her, but eventually the veil was lifted and I was able to clearly see the life I was living.

The life she was living now.

Right then, I made up my mind. I decided to bring her in, maybe scare some sense into her juvenile delinquent brain. The street was quiet tonight, likely a result of the blitz we'd done only two weeks ago. The johns were smart enough to stay away for now, but they always came back, eventually. For a moment, I considered leaving her there to walk up and down the street like a lost kitten. I knew taking her in wouldn't change anything and that my motivation was completely selfish, but I figured if I could protect her for just one night, it would be worth it.

She was well ahead of me now, at least five houses down. I eased out of my hiding spot. Making sure my footsteps would be heard, loud but steady, I approached her.

The way she turned, all dance-like and graceful, she must have thought I was a "customer". But there was no mistaking her panic when she saw my uniform.

"Nice night for a stroll," I observed, appearing to give her the option.

Nervous laughter told me she knew what happens next. "Yeah."

"Well?" I said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"To the station?" she asked, not nearly as concerned as she should have been.

* * *

I left her in the holding cell for an hour before I got up the nerve to face her again. As I headed to the stale-smelling closet which they charmingly call the "interrogation room", Detective Rosch stopped me.

"That skank you just brought in," he said, getting close enough that I could smell his sour breath, "She could be your sister or somethin', she looks just like you!" With that charming line, he jabbed me in the ribs. Just one o' the guys, that's me.

"You just wish it'd been you that picked her up. That way you could've pretended she was me and lived out all your fantasies," I shot back evenly.

"Ooo, low blow, Farron. Don't give me such tantalizing visuals! You know I've got a wife at home."

"Tch," I scoffed, wanting to be rid of him. "Then go to her. I'll hold the fort. Nothing's happening tonight anyway."

He wagged his finger annoyingly in my face. My hand was already halfway to my gunblade before I caught myself.

"You know the rules," he chanted at me. "Somebody's got to make sure that you don't molest that piece of ass in there," he said all too happily. There was a spring in his step as he made his way into the room behind the one-way mirror.

Great, he was going to record this one, the sick bastard.

When I entered the room, _she_ looked up at me miserably. Her dark make-up was smeared around her eyes, the tears like oil slicks down her face. Hoping Rosch hadn't noticed, I quickly offered her a tissue from the box in the corner of the room. _Buck up, _I thought at her_. It'll be okay_. I wanted to console her, to hold her little body and wipe her tears away. But I'd made my choice. She'll never be mine. _But she's got my eyes. _

I cleared my throat, the signal for Rosch to start recording, if he planned on doing so.

"My name is Officer Farron. I think you know why I brought you in here."

She looked at her hands, as if they held the answers.

I continued, opting to give her a lecture and a slap on the wrist. "Prostitution is illegal in Eden, and with good reason. We're trying to protect girls like you from the sons of bitches that'll use you and hurt you or worse."

Pulling her legs up underneath her, she curled up on the chair. She tucked her head over her knees, looking for all the world like a defenseless kitten. A muffled "Hm" was the only sign that she was listening to me.

I hated playing the bad guy, but I was damn good at my job and sometimes it was necessary.

I slammed my fist on the table, shocking her into raising her head. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and innocence. _My eyes._

"Don't be so ignorant! Do you know how many hookers we find dead every day?"

She mumbled something that was too low to hear.

"What's that?" I asked, my tone still harsh.

"I'm not a hooker," she whispered.

I shook my head. It was always a game with the younger ones. For some reason, they always think there was some way for them to 'win'. As if by outsmarting the cops they'd get off scot-free. But we weren't the ones doling out the consequences.

"Right. You were just out walking in the middle of the night wearing next to nothing because…" Here I let her try to finish the sentence.

"I was waiting for my date to pick me up," she offered, her tone hopeful.

It was close enough to the truth. I let it slide.

When I didn't cut her down, she continued her story, emboldened. "He's got a terrible sense of direction and he doesn't know that part of town very well, so I thought maybe if I walked to the corner I could flag him down when he passed by."

I sat down in the chair opposite to her. "What's your boy's name?"

"John," she replied quickly. Then she added, "John Snow."

_Right. _This was usually the point when I roll my eyes and ask her if she thinks I was born yesterday. However, I couldn't. Not with her.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, Miss…?" I tried to hide the way my heart sped up in anticipation.

"Leone. Serah Leone."

Tears caught in my eyes, enough of them that I had to blink to hide them. My throat was tight, and it was a moment before I could speak again. She'd kept it. All this time and she'd kept the name I gave her.

The day I'd given my daughter up for adoption, I'd felt empty. I had nothing to distract me anymore. Not the pregnancy or the booze or the partying. Finally I had to deal with the loss of my parents and find my own place in the world. I wouldn't allow myself to cry out of sadness, so I'd done the most painful thing I could think of and gotten a tattoo. I told them to put it in the most painful place so I could have a reason to cry. I tried to tell myself it was for me, a lion to symbolize my own strength, but deep down I knew. It was for her.

"Miss Leone. How about I drive you home?"

Her face brightened. I could hear the inner celebration she was holding as she thought that she'd won.

"I'll just be a minute with the paperwork," I said, stepping out of the room.

Detective Rosch was quick to join me. "What the hell, Farron? You just want to let this little thing off the hook?"

"What does it matter, anyway?" I asked angrily, the tears escaping in bitter trails down my cheek. "What difference will it make whether we hold her tonight or let her go?"

All of a sudden I was breaking down. Rosch caught me in surprise, awkwardly patting my back as the sobs shook my shoulders. I was crying for the daughter that I'd given up, and the shitty life she had to lead because of my mistakes. Now she was just behind that door and there was nothing I could do for her. Just like me, she was all alone in the world, with no one to guide her to the right path. She'd been the one to save me, and this is how I repaid her. I cried because I was the worst mother ever. I cried because my mother was never there when I needed her, either. I cried because it wouldn't be long before the cycle continued, and the line of worthless mothers would have another member.

With considerable effort, I stopped the tears and rebuilt the walls around my heart. Rosch gave me a careful look that said he wouldn't speak a word of this to anyone. I straightened up and he let me dry my eyes in silence. Then, I stepped forward to the interrogation room. This was it. I'd given her away. I had no right to cry, but I could at least try to save her.

The detective reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Are you ok? I can take her home if you want to catch up on your paperwork."

I appreciated the gesture. My "paperwork" would probably consist of a box and a half of tissues, and I hated showing weakness. "I'm fine, Detective."

* * *

I let her ride in the front seat of the squad car, though it was against regulation. At first, we rode in silence, I, not sure what to ask or how to bring it up, she, probably afraid anything she said would be held against her in a court of law.

"Can I drop you off at home, then?" I asked hesitantly. Then corrected it with, "Is there somewhere you call home?"

She wouldn't look at me, her gaze glued to the window, but a pair of lost eyes stared back at me from her reflection. "Just take me back to where you found me."

I knew I needed to try, so I went for it. "There are places you can go, you know. Shelters. Halfway houses…" I let the suggestion hang in the air.

"Stop trying to save me," she said bitterly, curling up once again. "You cops are all the same. You don't know anything about me."

_That's where you're wrong,_ I wanted to say.

"Tell me one thing you would never do," I said abruptly. That earned me a look from her. I clarified, "You think that cops label you, assuming the worst. So, prove me wrong."

"Children," she whispered.

My heart stopped. Did she know who I was? Did she figure it out?

"Children?" I questioned.

"I'll never bring a child into this hell-hole we call Cocoon."

Her blunt answer was the last thing she said to me. We arrived on the shady side street where I'd picked her up and she jumped out of the squad car before I could get in another word. I watched sadly as she walked away, sashaying in a way that said she knew I was watching and that she didn't care. As much as I pictured her as a kitten, perhaps she was stronger than that. Fiercer. Maybe she'd be okay. Just maybe, she was a lioness.

I stroked the skin behind my ear as I drove away, not needing to see it. The tattoo that gave me the strength to move on. _My little lion._

* * *

**A/N: **The name John Snow was not supposed to be a reference to Game of Thrones/ A Song of Fire and Ice. It was meant to be a play on the word "john" combined with Snow from the game, Serah's actual fiance. But take it which ever way you want. _  
_

UPDATE 03-26-13: _I have written a sequel to this story, in Serah's POV called "Youth without youth". More installments of this AU will have the tag "Synthetica story arc" in the description. I'm hoping to write at least 8 total (or 6 more)._


	2. Song Lyrics

**Lost Kitten by Metric (lyrics from A-Z lyrics)**

Don't say yes if you can't say no

Victim of the system, say it isn't so

Squatted on the doorstep, swollen on the blow

Leavin' without you, can't say no

* * *

Halfway starts with happiness for me

Halfway house, lost kitten in the street

Hit me where it hurts, I'm coming home to lose

Kitten on the catwalk, high-heeled shoes

* * *

No more hot-headed Saturdays

They got it, they want it, they give it away

Tell me one thing you would never do

I was looking for a hooker when I found you

* * *

You've got my eyes, you've got my eyes

You'll never be mine, ah, but you've got my eyes

* * *

When you lie, I cover it up

When you hide, I cover it up

When you cry, I cover it up

When you come undone, I cover it up

* * *

So pent up, I was coming home to you

Happy in the nighttime, howlin' at the moon

Sippin' on a cocktail, drinking in the loo

There was something about you I hold on to

* * *

You've got my eyes, you've got my eyes

You'll never be mine, ah, but you've got my eyes

* * *

When you lie, I cover it up

When you hide I cover it up

When you cry, I cover it up

When you're blind, I cover it up

* * *

When you lie, I cover it up,

When you hide, I cover it up

When you cry, I cover it up

When you come undone, I cover it up

* * *

They got it, they want it, they give it away

They got it, they want it, they give it away

They got it, they want it, they give it away

They got it, they want it, they give it away

* * *

They got it, they want it, they give it away

(When you lie, I cover it up)

They got it, they want it, they give it away

(When you hide, I cover it up)

They got it, they want it, they give it away

(When you cry, I cover it up)

They got it, they want it, they give it away

(When you come undone, I cover it up)


End file.
